Endless
by Reise-chan
Summary: "You may be a young country, but it's never to late to learn what burden we have to carry as nations. The pain of scars, proof we've been in these wars, the memories of hatred and blood and the realization- The realization that we aren't special." In the midst of WW2, most nations just hope this horrid war won't leave painful scars and memories. (A lot more characters then listed)


Prologue:

The day, that particular day, a Tuesday to be exact, was quite chilly, too cold for one's own good. The breezy winds had whipped across the soldiers' faces with its arctic-like winds and the frost had cleverly etched their way onto the barely visible trails of the forestry. The firm and steady ground, covered with all sorts of vivid life, was laced with the beauty of what seemed like millions pairs of military boots treading across the lands. Despite the freezing air that had hazed around the area, the ends of their own colored hair had latched onto their partially sweaty foreheads.

How long had they been marching?

The warmth of the sun had barely creeped its way through the rolling sea of gray tinted clouds. However, cracks of the rays would reveal itself once in a very long while. It showed the single fact that it was well past noon; the sun had lowered itself from its peak. Every single person knew it would only get colder from there.

Veneziano had still remembered the day, quite clearly actually, and he would continue to do so.

Once thinking back on it, the Italian believed that five hours had passed. It had felt longer than that. However, to most of the proud, glory-seeking soldiers, this information was irrelevant. Their weary minds reeled with almost no attention, as their trained bodies continued to move as they had done so for so long. It was becoming something like an automatic movement, requiring no thought at all. To them, it was one step- right, one step- left, one step- right, one step- left, and so on. It was a never-ending cycle.

With such a dulling sight, Veneziano's hazelnut colored eyes wander to the side, his right, and gazed at the overly prideful and young nation of Germany. His bright blue eyes seemed to radiate his hard work and honest attempts to raise his country's status in Europe.

It was such a depressing sight to the naturally born artist, as he could relate to those feelings of pureness and naivety- that was until he learned what being a country really meant, the hard way of course. Then again, Veneziano, personification of Northern Italy, thought nothing can be simply told; one learns from experience, whether they like it or not.

The Italian sighs, turning his attention back onto the dirt road and continuing to march absentmindedly. With the constant pace everyone was keeping, he could close his eyes and let his body wander about, but he only did so for a few minutes. Once opened, Veneziano could practically see the unwelcoming scene of cold winter coming about in Eastern Europe. It screamed at him: _Welcome to Russia. Hope you have a great time here._

And so...

With silence and pity,

With calmness and pride,

With honesty and lies,

The tale is woven with those empathetic words, whispered through the mouth of the experienced Italian in the lands of Russia, "I hope this war doesn't break you, Germany."

With that,

They continue to march along the road to war.

...

**Author's Note:**

**Okay…**

**I really don't know how to do this, as this is my first time uploading something on the internet, and so I'm not really sure if I did this right. With that, it would be a miracle if I actually did do this right.**

**Honestly, I'm actually not expecting this to go well, not at all, in every way possible. With that, I was kind of hesitant uploading this… Took a lot of self-motivation (if I had any). I mean, I don't even let my friends read my fanfictions.**

**Onto the notes for the story… Technically this is just the prologue to a story I had in mind, but probably won't write it in the future. Also, any constructive criticism is needed! I'm not the best writer out there. English is my worst subject. So, as I said before, constructive criticism would be very helpful for me to become a better writer.**

**Also, I'm really sorry for Italy and Germany being OOC. I meant to place it during real historical times during World War 2, or at least some war out there, and because of this, I imagine an older nation like Italy would be more knowledgeable on this stuff. But, I really don't know if this actually historically correct (used Wikipedia and only researched a couple of minutes before I said 'good enough.')**

**…**

**And now I'm just rambling, yeah, so if you have any tips and such that could help, please do tell me :D.**

**Edit: Forgot to mention that Hetalia does not belong to me and basically I own nothing. Yep, forgot that..**


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